AruAni Anecdotes
by RamblingPug
Summary: ' She hopes he understands, threading her fingers into his blonde strands, that she can't help this, she doesn't want to leave him. "You can still choose the Garrison," she says desperately, not caring that her defenses are down to the ground. ' A collection of my entries for AruAni week 2014. The rating varies from T to M.
1. Chapter 1

**Aruani Week, Day 1 (and day 2, actually)**

**Prompt : Missing You (and Bloodied hands, but that comes later)**

**Rating : M (nsfw content at the end)**

**A/N : This fic is a mix of my interpretation on both the prompts, Day 1 and day 2. The day 2 part comes towards the end. **

"Missing something doesn't necessarily mean it's far away."

Curious words, he thinks, when he overhears them. He wants to question this strange logic but she looks so sure, stating it like it's a fact and that it cannot be refuted. Upon closer inspection, these words of wisdom come from a tiny blonde girl, smaller than him even, hair a little paler, eyes one shade bluer, and a voice that tells him that maybe she's just a little bit more _damaged _than he is.

He seeks out this voice out more often than not, straining his ears to catch her words, infrequent that they are, reveling in their strangeness, his attention snared like one of the books his grandfather had given him.

The first time he plucks up the courage to talk to her, he is an utter mess, words tripping over each other, a self-conscious blush spread over his face. "I'm pretty bad at hand-to-hand combat," he says, after watching her train one evening. "Could you…" he trails off, already intimidated by the look she gives him, it's no wonder she always wins. "You're bad at most things that involve physical endurance, aren't you?" Her words are offensive, but he thinks he spots a hint of a smile, a teasing lilt in the voice that is usually so stoic. He's not sure why, but he's embarrassed more than insulted.

She knows all his weaknesses, points out his flaws as if they were the most obvious things in the world, but she still doesn't go easy on him. "Titans aren't going to wait till you're ready," she says in response to the alarmed groan he lets out when she first punches him. He does his best to defend himself but he's just entered Annie's comfort zone and he worries that if this is _comfort _then he doesn't even want to _think _about what discomfort is.

By the end of it, his lips are swollen and bleeding from one side, his cheekbone showing definite discolouration. He almost regrets his decision to ask her for help, because he isn't sure he'll make it out alive, but she offers a hand to help him get up and he's glad he got the chance to discover how soft it is.

She doesn't let go till she leaves him to get the first aid box, only to be back within less than two minutes, holding a pack of ice and some antiseptic. "You bruise easily," she says sounding slightly remorseful that the growing welt on his cheek was entirely her doing. He's thankful he looks so beat up, because otherwise the ever-growing blush on his cheek would be far too conspicuous.

"Will you be free again tomorrow?" His question comes as a surprise to Annie because few people ever want to spar with her more than once. She nods hesitantly and he smiles, a smile so generous and genuine that she's tempted to have a go at it too. She watches him head back to his dorm, he was pretty beat after all, and wonders if this is what being _comfortable_ with someone feels like.

..

Eventually he feels a sense of familiarity grow onto them so he asks her about her home town. For the first time he notices a slight quiver of her lips before she answers, a smidgeon of unsurety which is usually masked by the curtness of her answers. "There are a few people still living there," she says, keeping her eyes on the sky, her expression hidden.

He looks at her anyway, observing the hook of her nose turned defiantly upwards, and lately it seems all he does is watch her, slowly beginning to understand the meaning of her almost invisible gestures. The swallow of her throat when she is faced with a difficult question, the quiver of her lips when the words don't want to come out, the cleverly hidden glaze of her eyes when she's going to lie… Armin has memorized them all.

But despite all this, he knows she will answer him. So he doesn't prod her and begins to talk about his own hometown, his voice softer, calmer, soothing like the 'waves' of the outside world that Armin keeps talking about.

"There's nothing left of my town," he says sadly. He is such a sharp contrast to her, she thinks, the blue in his eyes reflecting more emotion than it should in this dangerous world.

"It's a long way from here," he says when she asks where it is. "I miss it sometimes."

It's after he utters these words that Annie says something that will ring in his ears for the years to come. Just like the first time he had ever heard her speak. "You don't just miss things that are far away, you know." She turns toward him, and all of a sudden they are closer than he is prepared for, her nose less than an inch from his. It's all he can do to _not _look at her lips, pink and small that they are, just like the rest of her, and wonder what it would be like to feel them against his own.

"Sometimes there are things that are right in front of you, but you miss them anyway."

She tilts her head back and looks at him. This time Armin thinks he agrees with her because that wonderful closeness is gone and even though her lips are right in front of him, he misses them anyway.

..

It was no surprise that she's made it to the top ten, really, her skills had been obvious from day one. She had always maintained that she wanted the comforts of the inner walls and one night, when Armin had told her about his decision to join the Survey Corps, she knew that this little tryst of theirs wouldn't go far.

She had known everything and accepted it, even, but when the blonde boy and his nervous fidgeting is replaced by a tall brunette who clearly spends far too much time worrying about her hair, she realizes just how unprepared she is for a life without him.

..

He had done it. Somehow, Armin had made it through the grueling training and finally graduated to become a member of the Survey Corps. He couldn't have done it by himself, he thinks, glancing down at his watch to see that it was now 6 PM, his usual training time with Annie. He leaves the crowd of celebrating trainees and walks back to the dorms needing some peace and quiet, because the only thing weighing on his mind now is that there would be no 'training' with Annie anymore, no _anything_ in fact because the new recruits for the Military Police had already left to the inner walls.

He sighs, trying to shake off his depressing thoughts because he should be happy for really, life inside Wall Sina is peaceful. And safe.

So when he reaches his room, he is shocked and maybe just slightly overjoyed to see the very same girl who was clouding his thoughts sitting right outside on the stairs, waiting for him.

"You took your time," she says, smiling slightly at his open mouthed reaction to her presence. "I really don't see why you people were celebrating about joining the Survey Corps." She's never really hidden her disdain for the Survey Corps or her marked disapproval of Armin joining it.

"_The Garrison isn't a bad choice, you know," she had told him one day after kicking his ass, yet again, wondering why in the world such a smart boy would repeat the same mistakes over and over again. "It's a safer choice," she says, "at least you won't be offering your life on a platter to the Titans." He surveys his injuries calmly, listening to what she says but not saying anything back because he's already made his choice. It had taken him a while but he slowly realized that she wasn't being condescending, she actually cared. _

_For someone who seems so meek, he can be awfully stubborn, she realizes and it's frustrating sometimes. You'll be closer to me, she wants to say, because that's the real reason she wants to him to join the Garrison, but the words don't come out._

"Annie," he exclaims, staring at her in the most impolite manner, "What are you doing here?! The rest of them have already left!"

"Training," she says blankly, coming up with the only excuse she can think of, "I hear your first mission isn't too long from now. I'll catch up with them later."

He fails to see the real life applications of hand-to-hand combat when it comes to facing Titans, but he goes along with it, if it means getting just one more chance to spend time with her. Even if it involves getting thrown onto the floor and on his back, within mere seconds.

He sits up and rubs his head gingerly, wondering how he got lucky enough for Annie to give him an extra moment to breathe. He looks up at her, his grin sheepish as if to apologize for being so terrible despite all the time she has spent on him, but he catches her staring at him, the emotion in her eyes unrecognizable.

She drops to her knees, down to his level, defeated, because the last thing she actually wants to do with him is fight. She watches his eyebrows furrow together in worry and she knows that he's figured out that she's upset. And for once, she doesn't want to pretend otherwise.

"Hey," he starts, his tone soft but questioning, "What's wrong?" Not for the first time, she laments that even the smartest of boys can have their blonde moments (pardon the pun) and wonders why it's so hard to just say what she's thinking.

But she's given up waiting for the words to come out, and she knows better than to expect Armin to make the first move, so she shifts forward to kiss him instead, answering the question with her lips rather than her words.

It doesn't take long for Armin to catch on, the initial dizziness of surprise wearing off only to be replaced with a desire to be even closer. He pulls her towards him, taking a moment to look at her. He traces a finger over her parted lips, whispering, "I'm going to miss you," and she pulls his mouth back to hers pouring her feelings into the kiss.

She hopes he understands, threading her fingers into his blonde strands, that she can't help this, she doesn't want to leave him. "You can still choose the Garrison," she says desperately, not caring that her defenses are down to the ground. He shakes his head, trying to bite back the tears because this is a pointless discussion.

So he finds her mouth instead, initiating the kiss this time, pushing away all the sadness because he just wants to focus on her. Her eyes, her nose, her lips, he wants to kiss each one of them. She gives into him, knowing that it's futile, that things were about to change anyway, trying to revel in the feeling of Armin wrapped around her. His kiss is deep but gentle, and she tastes acceptance and kindness and all the wonderful things that he represents in her life.

They are lost in this gentle, warm humdrum of kisses and touches till it begins to rain, large, heavy drops falling on their faces. Armin looks up at the sky and smiles but before he can say anything she pins him to the ground, kissing him with an urgency that startles him. She doesn't want the comfort anymore, she decides, and selfish that it may be, she wants to take the smile off his face, steal it from him and take it with her because she needs it more than he does. She needs his touch, his kisses, his taste and she needs him to want her the way she wants him.

Armin falls into her desperate rhythm, open-mouthed, licking into her and a small part of his mind is aware that they are soaking wet, the rain water mixing with their kisses, mud in their hair and clothes, but he doesn't want to stop, not now, not _ever. _

He's managed to untuck her shirt, stroking her taut abs with his messy fingers. He is positive he wouldn't have stopped there if it weren't for a deep annoyed voice that cuts into the air.

"Arlert," the voice says, and Armin freezes because it's no mystery who that voice belongs to. Everyone in the army knows it. With great effort he wrenches his lips away from hers, and looks up at Levi heichou, clearly irritated at having to stand out in the rain and deal with their antics.

"Yes sir," he says, voice more of a squeak than anything else, because he is aware that it's not just Levi who's irritated, Annie looks almost furious. "You look filthy," he says calmly, not caring that she's straddling his hips and her shirt is undone. They couldn't have looked less guilty even if they tried. "We can't have sick, dirty little runts joining the Survey Corps." He looks over at her, scrutinizing her face as she got off of him. "And you," he says, recognizing her, "The Military brats are looking for you."

She gets up, shaking the mud off of her sleeves and when Armin looks at her, he sees that the mask is back on, all traces of vulnerability having washed off with the rain. He can do nothing but watch as Levi takes her away and he shivers, the warmth seeping out of him and trailing off in Annie's shadow.

..

The worst part about having spent so much time with Annie is that most of it was spent looking into her eyes, and that reading them had become one of his best talents.

So it's no wonder that when he's certain death is knocking at his door, he thinks of her and wishes he could see her again, just one last time.

He gets his wish, and he's horrified by it, staring into her eyes, only they were a hundred times larger, embedded in a titan-sized body that is about to deliver the death he is preparing for.

His heart stops, because there is too much realization, fear and shock coursing through him all at once.

What is most shocking is that he can see his emotions mirrored in her eyes, as she sets him back down, setting off into a sprint, wanting to get away from him and all the questions that were sure to follow.

..

**[This part is also inspired by the prompt for Day 2, Bloodied hands]**

"Armin," Mikasa calls, her voice shaking him out of his reverie, urging him to take better notice of what his horse was doing. Pulling on its reins in indication for it to keep moving, he looks ahead, thoughts consuming him all over again. "What's bothering you?" she asks, noting that the blonde had been out of sorts ever since the encounter with the Female Titan three days ago.

He knows that they've been friends for years and that he can trust Mikasa, but he refrains from saying anything because he knows she will only see red when it comes to endangering Eren's life. So he keeps his theory to himself, shaking his head and assuring her that he's just tired from the journey. He wonders why he's trying so hard to protect Annie when he should be angry too, Eren is his best friend after all.

He's still waiting for some proof, some concrete evidence that will give life to the sliver of hope that it was only his imagination and that those eyes belonged to a complete stranger.

The minute they enter the innermost city, they are given instructions to head to the Survey Corps quarters where they will be staying the night and that Commander Erwin will meet with them tomorrow.

He heads straight to his room, telling Eren and Mikasa to go on to dinner without him and that he isn't hungry anyway. "I'll save you some bread in case you're hungry later," she says quietly, her way of telling him that he needs to eat.

He nods absently, but he knows there's no way he can stomach anything because the truth is twisting inside his gut. He has decided that he will tell the Commander first thing in the morning.

When he reaches his room he notices that his door is unlocked and he frowns looking back at the room number to confirm that this is indeed the one he has been allotted.

He opens the door slowly and when he looks inside, his heart is torn by his conflicted emotions looking at the small figure perched at the edge of his bed. He lets out a long breath, wanting to smack himself because it was obvious, really, the Military Police was in charge of their hospitality after all.

If she could infiltrate a Survey Corps expedition then surely procuring his room key would have hardly been a challenge for Annie.

He looks at her for a moment, the girl that he thought he had fallen in love with, but when he closes his eyes and opens them again, all he can see is a monster. Who had betrayed all of humanity.

Within a moment she has him pinned against the door, and he is so exhausted with trying to sort out his feelings, he just gives into the feel of her small body against his. She surges forward to kiss him and he knows they won't be talking tonight.

There's no point, they both know the truth and no amount of words could take it away.

She drags him by the lapels of his coat, pushing him onto the bed and straddling him, kissing him the entire time. His brain functioning has been reduced to an almost negligible level and he wonders just how physical intimacy works as such a wonderful drug, dragging away the pain and replacing it with a heavy, hormonal stupor that drives his mouth and hands to work with a mind of his own.

She makes short work of their clothes, yanking his shirt so hard that his buttons pop off, scattering into the dusty corners of the room. Her kisses are more teeth this time, nipping on his lower lip causing him to gasp out loud. "Annie," he says, voice hoarse, because he may be reacting to her in the most shameless way, but it doesn't change the fact that she betrayed them, no, she betrayed _him,_ and it's breaking his heart.

His mind goes back to something she told him a long ago and he's never agreed with it more. She's right in front of him, on top of him even, closer than ever, but he has never _missed _her more.

She feels sorry for him then, because Armin is too good for her, too pure to be touched with her blood stained hands but she can't help it. She's certain he thinks of a monster, that it's too late for her to explain anything and she doesn't care anymore, she just wants to drag him into the deepest rings of inferno along with her.

"Stop me," she says in a choked whisper, and she's stupid to think that he will, not now, not when she's naked on top of him, lips swollen from kissing him, her arousal dripping against his own.

"No," he breathes, yanking her down on to him with a roughness, biting her lips hard when she sinks down onto him, to stifle his own groan. For now, this is okay, he thinks, he can stay in this suspended state of consciousness, consumed by the flames of their desire.

..

The morning comes sooner than he is prepared for, waking up in warm sheets only to find that he is alone, with only her blue hair tie lying near the pillow as a reminder of the night that had passed. His cheeks burn with the memory of how it got there, mind flooded with the image of him pulling it off her with impatience as she arched against him.

He washes his face and gets dressed, trying to calm himself. As he walks into the room where the Commander waits for him, he is strangely mollified.

How different was he, from her, when both of them just ultimately end up betraying the ones they love?

**A/N : This week presents a lot of firsts for me, and one of them is writing for this ship. So any thoughts or feedback are highly appreciated.**

**HAPPY ARUANI WEEK EVERYONE! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Aruani Week, Day 3**

**Prompt : Ghost**

**Rating : M (mature themes)**

He lifts his eyes from the book on his lap, having been interrupted by the screeching sound of old car tires coming to a halt. _Ah, company! _He thinks, looking out the window with interest, it's been quite a while with just him and his books for company.

Armin strains his eyes from the window of his cozy little attic, peering at the tempo that just pulled into the driveway. He hopes for a large family this time, preferably with a bunch of kids that he can play with after their mother tucks them into bed every night. He could tell them stories, he thinks excitedly, because after spending a hundred and two years in the same town, road and house, he's accumulated a _lot _of tales to tell.

But when he sees a young man, with only a tiny blonde girl in tow enter the house, he is slightly disappointed. This is a huge house, and definitely far too big for just two people, so he decides to wait out the rest of the day in the attic to see if anyone else arrives.

He remains engrossed in his copy of the Universe Explained, grateful to the previous residents for having left it behind, till a quiet voice cuts in on his musings about outer space.

"What are you doing in our house?"

A peculiar choice for a question, he thinks, it wasn't a "who are you?" or a startled shriek, but an ostensibly calm enquiry as to what he could possibly be doing in what she seemed to think was actually _her _house.

"It's not _your _house, little girl," he informs her, matter-of-factly, "It's _my house. _This has been my home for over a century."

She looks unfazed, arranging all the boxes her father had told her to take up to the attic, and he wonders how she can look so blank when he's as good as declared to her that she was standing in front of a man who should have been dead by now. Which he is, to be honest, but the time for technicality will come later.

"Does that mean you'll be living here too?" She asks and he thinks it's kind of rude to make it sound like _he _was the one imposing on their family home.

"Well like I've already mentioned, this _is _my house," he retorts, not wanting to mention that he's not really _living, _per se, he's just… you know, staying here. He's usually never this hostile with the kids, but there's something about this one that just makes him want to go back to his book and not be disturbed ever again.

"Do what you like," she says with a shrug as she turns around to leave. "But I'm _not _a _little_ girl."

He looks at her curiously, because she certainly does look like one, tiny little thing that she is. "Oh?" he asks, politely, "How old are you then?"

"Thirteen," she says shooting him a glare before she walks out, and it's only when he sees the harshness in the blue of her eyes that he winces, almost feeling the despair that they held; the pain of someone far beyond her years.

It's strange, he ponders, the older kids could never actually see him, it was always the babies and the littler ones, the ones who had barely made it to school yet. And here was a teenage girl talking to him like he was as solid as the walls that had confined him for so many years.

Did she even realize what he was?

Despite their strange exchange, he wants to know more about her, so he goes down to the hall that night. He's never done this before; going down and snooping in on family time has never been one of his secret pleasures. In his eighty-five years of ghosthood, he's been careful to stay away from the adults especially in front of the children, because he knows that it will cause a stressful situation. But this girl is older and more aware, if she hadn't brought her father up to the attic to show him that there's a 'man' already living there, then surely she must have caught on by now.

The scene in the kitchen is pretty domestic, he thinks, watching them do the dishes together, he cleans and she dries, having placed a stool on the floor so that she is high enough to place the plates back in their rightful place. He chuckles softly because for her all her haughty declarations that she is in fact, thirteen years old, no one would ever think so. She was _remarkably_ tiny for someone of that age.

Her father watches her patiently as she dries off the last plate and smiles at her, walking upto her and hugging her from behind, placing a kiss on her cheek. Now if he were a normal person, he would have thought the scene to be cute, but he isn't, he's a ghost and he can _smell _the fear that pours out of her when father touches her. It's a pungent, consuming smell and it spreads through his non-existence reminding him of his own fear, from eighty five years ago.

"Let's watch a movie, Annie," her father tells her gesturing for her to join him on the couch after she's done. She nods at him, breathing only after he's at least four feet away from her. She pours a glass of hot milk for herself and hops off the stool, pausing when she sees Armin standing at the kitchen entrance.

She doesn't look even remotely startled to see him there, she just purses her lips in annoyance, like it was too much of a bother to run into him again. "What's your name?" she asks, careful to keep her voice low, not wanting her father to hear.

"Armin," he says slowly, surprised that she's asking this question now, calmly as if they were just making acquaintances, when he is still trying to wrap his head around what he had just seen.

She nods slightly, and walks out to the living room where her father is flicking channels, trying to decide what to watch.

After a moment's indecision, he follows after her, sensing the nervousness that she's trying so hard to disguise, slightly worried for some reason. She sits on the far end of the couch away from her father, putting her knees up.

"Annie," her father says, his tone chastising, like he's about to reprimand her for eating too much chocolate, "come now, sit on my lap." He smiles at her, a smile that's supposed to be soothing but Armin can feel the opposite reaction in her, her blood running cold as he continued, "You know how much Papa likes to be close to you."

Armin is confused when she sees her get up and go to him, when he _knows, _when he can _feel _how much she doesn't want to, how much she's dreading it.

They finally decide on an old, romantic comedy, one that he can recognize from his younger years.

Annie doesn't seem to care, her shoulders stiff with palpable tension, lips bitten so hard that little beads of blood have begun to form at the cracks. He wants to go there and ask her what's wrong and why she is this afraid of her father, but she isn't a baby for her to communicate with him in incomprehensible gurgles.

Things don't make sense to him till a few moments later, when he sees her fidgeting in his lap, the scent of her desperation heavy in the air. "Always so restless, Annie," her father whispers in her ear, holding her tightly against him, hands roaming under her nightdress.

In all his long, interminable years in this house, Armin has never seen anything that has made him feel so sick to his stomach.

Her father is unrelenting, fingers easing down her panties, and Armin can feel Annie's attempts to resist fade as her resignation comes with a quiet sob, a single tear trickling down her porcelain cheek.

Armin is bilious, unable to watch the horror unfolding in front him and he walks over to them, his heart breaking when he sees Annie's face, her eyes squeezed shut in fear. He notices the glass of hot milk shaking in hands and he gets an idea.

He leans over, pushing the glass out of her hand, the heated liquid falling all over her father, the glass falling to the floor and shattering into pieces in an audible crash.

Her father yelps in shock, his arms stinging from the heat and pushes her off of him, uncaring that there's broken glass on the floor. "You stupid girl!" he growls, cutting his feet on the glass, when he walks towards her. Livid, he slaps her hard across her cheek.

Trembling, she gets up, nicking her own feet on the glass as well, running up the stairs, leaving a trail of bloody foot prints behind. She doesn't breathe till she is behind the safety of her room door, knowing that her father is too angry tonight to come after her. She can worry about tomorrow later, but for now, she is okay.

She lifts her eyes to the bed and sees Armin already setting there, his blonde eyebrows, furrowed together in concern. She should've known he'd get here before she did. She shuffles into the bathroom to wash off the blood from her foot and he doesn't say or ask anything, for which she is thankful.

When she comes back into the room, he's rolled the covers back, and moved off the bed, making space for her to sleep. "Come on," he says, his blue eyes clear and calming even after the debacle that just took place. "I'll tuck you in."

She gets into bed and he watches her trying to sleep, turning to the other side. She tries and tries, shutting her eyes, trying to empty her mind but it's no use, she can't keep the tears inside anymore.

"Armin," she says softly, big fat drops rolling down her cheeks, "Thank you."

He moves closer, his heart splintering at the vulnerability in her voice and she takes his hand, clutching onto it, as the tears empty out of her. He strokes her ash blonde hair with his other hand, trying to calm her and himself, because for the first time in a long while, he is furious.

What kind of a savage does this to a little girl?

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, running a finger over the red imprint of her father's hand. "I got you hurt."

She shakes her head, her sobs having quieted down. "I'd rather get hit by him than… you know…" she trails off, not wanting to give a name to her father's wretched violation.

"Go to sleep, Annie," he says softly, feeling her breathing start to even out. _I'll protect you, _he wants to say, but she's already asleep, holding on to his fingers and the warm feeling of being safe, with all her heart.

..

"Hey, Armin," she asks one night when he's lying down next to her, reading 'The Notebook' over her shoulder. "Hmm," he responds, too engrossed in the whirlwind romance of Allie and Noah to react properly.

It's been a couple of weeks since the incident with her father and she had found that Casper the Friendly Ghost had nothing on Armin Arlert. He was helpful, funny and they had a lot of similar interests.

She shuts the book abruptly, giggling when he complains about being left mid-sentence during a very passionate monologue. "How old were you when you died?"

"Seventeen," he replies, amused at how blasé she can be about such matters. "Technically, I'm a teenager too, you know."

"Eighty five years ago," she says, slowly, doing the math. "Is _that _why you have such a tacky hairstyle?" she teases, ruffling his hair.

"Hey, my hair looks good," he says indignantly, prying her hands away from it, "and it feels pretty good too, judging from how you keep finding excuses to touch it."

He grins, spotting the embarrassed blush on her cheeks. Well looks he wasn't completely _wrong._

..

Sleep swirls around her sooner these days, Armin thinks, watching her doze with her story book sprawled out in front of her.

No sooner does he think that than her room door is thrown open, startling her awake.

"Papa," she exclaims, recognizing the large figure in her doorway. "I thought you were coming back late tonight, so I-", she starts to apologize for not leaving any dinner for him, when she notices the look in his eyes, glazed and predatory. She freezes. _No, not again. _

"Don't worry sweetheart," he drawls, "I'm not really in the mood for food right now anyway." In less than two strides flat, he is leaning over her, and she can smell the whiskey on his breath.

Armin wonders why he even gives her father the benefit of doubt; A few good months can't change a man.

"Did your Mama teach you to dress like this for bed?" he says with a sneer. He yanks on her button down nightdress so hard, it snaps. "Such a fucking tease."

She tries to push away his grimy hands, but she could have saved her effort, really. Her weak protests only served to excite him further, causing him to grip both her hands above her head in restraint.

He places the bottle of alcohol he was holding on her bedside drawer and leans in to kiss her. But before he makes contact, he feels a sharp tug of his hair, so painful that his neck snaps backward. "Whaa?" he mumbles, wondering if the alcohol has now started to induce hallucinations. He isn't given much time to wonder though, because the alcohol bottle crashes onto his feet, as if it had been dropped from a much larger height, causing the heavy glass to break on his feet.

He doubles over in pain, certain that one of his veins has been split, because he's never seen so much blood. He looks over at Annie, curses flying from his mouth, but even he knows that both her hands have been in his grip this entire time.

"Stay away from her."

It is nothing more than a hollow whisper that breezes past his ear, but he's sure the open gash at his neck wasn't there two minutes ago. He looks at Annie, who now has a faint smile playing at her lips and trepidation hits him like never before.

He runs out of the room, pupils blown in fear, tripping over his own feet.

It isn't till the door closes that Armin realizes he's been shaking this entire time. "I'm sorry," he whispers, falling to his knees, "I just, I… couldn't take it anymore." Annie crawls over to him and holds his face in her hands, and it's weird she thinks, that _she's _the one comforting _him _right now.

"I've never done anything so… violent," he confesses, as she strokes the hair she's pretty sure she's in love with, and she can completely imagine it, Armin is too gentle, too kind, to ever hurt anyone.

"Stop apologizing," she says, hugging him tightly, because he has nothing to be sorry about. He has become the sole manifestation of warmth, safety and trust in her life.

"You saved me."

..

He's finally lived up to the stigma of being a ghost he decides, recounting the number of times he's had to frighten the overgrown sleaze away from his own daughter. Therefore, next month when Halloween comes around he wouldn't have to get intimidated by the more 'realistic' appearances of the make believe ghosts.

Speaking of Halloween, he wonders whether Annie has started preparing her outfit. Maybe he could help.

When he asks her about it, she just laughs him off. "Maybe I could be a ghost," she says mockingly, "that way we can match."

"Oh shut up, Annie. What are your friends going to dress up as?"

The time limit for this conversation has expired, she thinks, wearily, because she's never been a huge fan of the trick-or-treat tradition anyway. "I haven't asked anyone."

"Do you even have any friends?" he asks, trying his best not to sound offensive.

To her credit, Annie doesn't really care. "I have you," she says, and that's all there is to be said on the matter.

He smiles, feeling happier than he should, because having no friends apart from a 102 year old ghost is definitely not a healthy practice.

This is fine for now, he thinks, but how long is she going to feel this way? Someday he's going to have to let go. And oddly enough, the thought twists in his heart, feeling far more unpleasant than it should.

..

"Since when do people come to visit you?" Armin jokes, watching her get up to answer the door. She sticks her tongue out at him. It's not like he was a social butterfly either.

"Um, hi," says a boy, tall and ostensibly tongue-tied, "My name's Bertholdt. I, uh, live across the street and you probably don't know me, but we're in the same class and well, um." He pauses, looking flushed, because Annie's looking at him and her stares can be pretty intimidating.

"Oh, hey," she says lamely, forgetting that there is such a thing as social etiquette. "Come in."

She offers him a glass of water and he takes it, and Armin really, really wants to make a joke about how he's come to propose judging by how much he's sweating.

"Reiner's having a party," he says suddenly, deciding that he should get to the point sometime today. "A Halloween party. The whole class is going and we were wondering if you wanted to come as well."

An awkward silence ensues. This is why I don't mingle, she thinks, there's just too much pressure of conversation.

He clears his throat uncomfortably. " I, uh, actually I was wondering if you wanted to come with me."

Armin's eyes pop open. Okay, he didn't think this would happen so soon. But he should've known. Fifteen is a precious age after all.

He catches Annie looking at him through the corner of his eye. "Yes," he says, giving her a thumbs up and reassuring her that this is normal, and that it's about time she gets out of the damn house, with nothing more than a smile. To be honest, he admires the boy's guts.

"Yes," she says, echoing his voice. Her mind is kind of numb from processing the whole party+boy+date equation.

The boy, Bert, as he says he likes to be called, looks beyond relieved. He gives her an ear-splitting grin and says goodbye, probably rushing off to tell his mates that he just got the girl.

Teens, Armin thinks, as though he's actually beyond it all, they haven't really changed much throughout the course of the century.

"For someone who has no friends, you agreed pretty easily," he says, eyebrows raised.

"You were the one who said I should go."

She pauses for a moment, taking it all in. "So this is what it's like to be 'Asked Out'," she tries out the term, the common colloquialism sounding foreign in her mouth. All of a sudden, she freezes, unpleasant thoughts flooding her mind.

"What's wrong, Annie?"

"I, I didn't think," she says, feeling nauseous all of a sudden. "Papa," she whispers, eyes glowing with a fear he hasn't seen in a year almost, and he understands.

Things were better now but Annie lives in constant fear of him flying off the handle. He's all she has left, but that doesn't mean she trusts him. Not after everything he's done to her.

"If he says anything, I'll handle it," he says, his voice taciturn, knowing the kind of mental trauma that she has gone through to be worrying so much about something as small as a date.

..

Halloween's here and Annie's standing in front of him, dressed as a fairy, with the wings, wand and fairy dust sprinkled on her cheeks.

His 17 year old heart can't help but feel a little jealous. He practically lives with her, but he has never gotten to see her with her hair left open, the beautiful blonde waves spilling out onto her shoulders.

"Okay," she says, taking a deep breath. "How do I look?"

"Amazing." He wishes his voice didn't sound as breathless as it did, but he can't help it. Annie was a very pretty girl and he's always acknowledged it but today… Today, she really was something else.

She gives him a little wave and a _smile_, and before he can process the fluttering feeling inside of him, she was out the door.

She comes home earlier than expected and although he's pleasantly surprised, he can't help but wonder why.

"Was it not fun or something?"

"It was great," she says, changing out of her clothes and sometimes just _sometimes _Armin wishes she would warn him before taking her top off because he may be a ghost, but he is still a _male _ghost.

"You should have come Armin," she says, gesturing for him to get on the bed with her. "All those people dressed as ghosts," she chuckles, "They have no idea what ghosts even look like!"

"Well I'm not most ghosts." His tone is light, as she put her head on his shoulder, wishing he weren't so aware of her proximity these days.

"True," she concurs," you are pretty good looking." There's a silence between them after her last comment and even though she's conscious all of a sudden, she doesn't move away from the warmth of his chest.

"Armin."

"Yeah?"

His eyes are so beautiful and calm, that she wonders why such a wonderful person would be condemned to roam this uneasy world for so long.

"I'm fifteen," she whispers, "and I've never been kissed."

"By a boy, I mean," she adds with a grimace, not wanting to count her father's indiscretions. He has learnt to stay away and so she is learning to forgive.

"Bertholdt didn't try anything?" he asked, wishing desperately for a negative answer.

She shakes her head, it doesn't really matter whether he tried or not. She takes a deep breath.

"I want you to kiss me, Armin."

"But I…" he trails off, unsure. "I'm not even re"- she cuts him off, because she knows what he's going to say. And that isn't an excuse.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

There, she has just about thrown the very concept of self-preservation on the line, by propositioning her very own live-in ghost.

He nods, shyly, and she just smiles because all his years of being dead hasn't made him even a little less adorable. She leans forward and kisses him, wondering why he keeps telling her that he isn't real because she can taste him, feel him and _breathe_ him, and it's incredible.

"Armin," she says, voice breathless with emotion, "you're real to me."

**A/N : Oh GOD, I was **_**this **_** close to giving this a sad ending. **

**Talk to me about giving them their happily-ever-after **_**please.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Aruani week, Day 6**

**Prompt : Dance with me**

**Rating : T**

**A/N : This was written, rather hastily, I'd like to add, for an anon who actually gave me the motivation to try to crawl out of my writer's block. I had gotten so invested in reading everyone else's stories that I kinda ruined my own headcanon and this mess of words is the result.**

There was a time Armin used to think being a cheerleader was a life of roses and sweet candy. Now, he isn't so sure.

Sitting beside someone of that very same disposition, he looks at a paragraph in his Physics textbook for what seems to be the tenth time in a span of five minutes. He peeks out of the corner of his eye at Annie, who's sitting patiently, waiting for him to stop fidgeting and start explaining the ever-confounding laws of thermodynamics.

"Armin," she says sweetly, the sugar in her voice a definite cover up for sarcasm. "Some time today would be nice." He ran a frustrated finger through his hair. He didn't know even the library could be this distracting.

"I would love to read and explain this stuff to you, Annie, but I can't help it if some of your _followers," _he emphasizes, loud enough for the follower in question to turn bright red and look away, "keep looking here." Normally, he actually gives a damn about library rules. Today, despite the angry glare from the librarian, he doesn't lower his volume.

Annie gives him an amused look and turns her attention to Bertholdt who, after having been caught gawking in her direction, has decided it would be less awkward to just come and speak to her instead of simply batting his eyelashes from a distance.

"Hey Annie," he says, flashing a nervous smile. She regards him coolly, her ice blue eyes as impassive as ever. "Bertholdt."

"You coming to Krista's party?"

_Wait. What party? _

He sees Annie's lack of recognition as a positive sign and (stupidly) indulges in some false hope. "There's a Christmas party at Krista's house day after. Do you want to go with me?"

"Oh!" Annie exclaims, feigning forgetfulness. "I completely forgot. I'm going with Armin," she says brightly, linking her arm with that of the boy sitting right next to her. "Sorry," she says, not looking apologetic at all.

_You are? _Armin wants to ask, eyes popping in surprise. He racks his brain through the archives of conversations with Annie but he can't remember her ever mentioning Krista's Christmas party to him. Annie always mentioned the plethora of parties she was constantly invited to, but she always did her best to get out of them. He was pretty sure that her actually inviting him to one of these parties was the sort of thing he wouldn't forget about.

"Right," Bertholdt says, his voice strained. "Armin." He graces him with a look that is barely polite, having completely ignored the blonde till now. Armin wishes he had just ignored him completely, not knowing if it was Bertholdt's complete dismissal of him or his relentless pursuit of Annie that bothered him more. He'd like to think that it _isn't _the latter.

After he walks away, trying desperately not to let the sting of rejection show on his face, Armin can't help but remark, "Since when did his voice get so squeaky?" Annie grins, Armin's snarky side can be rather enjoyable.

"Because it certainly doesn't sound like that when he's discussing his freshmen exploits with Reiner."

To this Annie guffaws so loudly, that they are promptly thrown out of the library with a chastising remark from the librarian about how she didn't expect "this sort of behavior" from straight-A, Literary Club President Armin. Yes, he is used to being in the good books of practically everyone, but he couldn't care less, though. A small part of him was happy that _he_ was the one making her laugh like this.

"So," he says, breaking their comfortable silence as they walked home together. "About this party."

"Yeah? What about it?"

_You just said we were going to go together, _he wants to say, but getting rather tongue-tied in front of her is something he's getting used to these days. "When exactly were you planning to tell me about it?"

She looks a little surprised and so is he, to be honest, because that had come out a little more accusatory than he had intended. "I actually just made that up," she admits, looking at him like he was supposed to have guessed that already. "I just really wanted to get out of going with Bertholdt."

She watches Armin's face fall, and she is confused because he's never really one to be interested in parties. "We can go if you want," she adds, hastily because he is pathetic at keeping his emotions to himself and she can't stand him looking like that. "If you don't have any other plans, that is."

Truth be told, she'd rather just celebrate Christmas with him, even if it means suffering through an entire evening with Mikasa Ackerman. She has a feeling that's how he spends most of his Christmases, with her, and she doesn't like it.

"Not really," he says, thinking for a moment. "I think Eren's going to the party too." She nods, Eren goes to most of these parties along with his Soccer teammates. As Captain, he takes his duty to socialize a little too seriously.

"But I think he's dragging Mikasa along too, this time."

Now _this _was definitely a surprise. It was obvious Mikasa was completely devoted to him but Eren had never treated her as anything other than a friend. And she _always _has better things to do than attend parties. "Are they finally dating?" she asks, unable to contain herself. She isn't really one for gossip, but she hears so much about them from Armin, she can't help but be a little curious.

"They'll get there soon, I hope," he says wearily, shaking his head with frustration. It's hard when both your best friends are being complete blockheads when it comes to their feelings for each other. "Is that what it means though?" he asks curiously, "that you're dating if you go to one of these parties together?" _Is that why Bertholdt keeps asking you to go with him? _

She wants to laugh, because he really is cute sometimes with his complete cluelessness when it comes to social protocol, but that question makes her a little nervous. She _did _just ask him to the party after all.

She just shrugs, non-committal, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks. "Since when did you care so much for parties?" she asks lightly, trying to make it less awkward but accomplishing the opposite.

"Since you said you were going with me," he blurts out and the words just hang there, no matter how much he wants to grab them and stuff them back in his mouth. She just stares at him, a strange look in her eyes and he doesn't want to be just _another one of her followers, _so he manages a smile and waves goodbye.

As she unlocks the door to her house, she can't help but feel the tiniest of smiles creeping onto her face. Armin never says things like that. Was that supposed to mean he wanted to spend Christmas with her too?

_We could go as friends._

Ugh. She wanted to hit herself for saying that. She had come to the conclusion that she wanted to be much, _much _more than just friends ages ago, but she wasn't really sure of what Armin thought of her. Sure they were friends. It had started out slow enough, with him teaching her physics once every week. It wasn't until she had started craving his company every day, that she realized just how much she had fallen for that shy smile.

Well she had made her move. Now, it was his turn.

..

Upon Eren's insistence, he had decided against his idea to get a haircut; "Your nerdy look suits you Armin," he had said and he could kind of see his point, there was no point getting a drastic makeover for some stupid party.

But the nearer he got to her house, the more he started to feel that it wasn't really just 'some stupid party' but the first time he would actually be _going out _with Annie. Hands shaking as he rings the bell, he mutters, "She said we're just going as friends, so there's no pressure."

Who was he kidding? It's been months since he's though of Annie as _just _a friend.

The door swings open and he is instantly relieved to find her standing in her usual attire of just a sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. "Hey," she says, gesturing for him to come inside. "You're here early."

He checks his watch. 6.45 p.m. "Um, didn't they ask us to come by 7?"

She smirks. "Armin, no one _ever _goes to these things on time."

Confused, because he doesn't understand the point of stating a time when you're not going to keep to it, he just decides not to dwell on it because she's bound to know about these things better.

She hands him a plate of noodles as he sits on her bed. "You should eat up before we get there," she says, answering the question in his eyes.

"It's a party. Doesn't that mean there'll be food?"

This time she just laughs, there is no way someone in their final year of high school can know this little about what went on at these parties.

He frowns, twisting the fork into the noodles as he watches her rummage through her closet. He didn't want her to change, he was actually quite fond of the little denim shorts she spent most of her time in.

"So what are these parties even like?" he asks, catching the pair of black jeans that she throws at him as she enters the bathroom to change.

"Lots of alcohol," she says, voice echoing from the bathroom, "and it Krista's party so Ymir will be there. So some weed too. Possibly."

He gulps, wondering if he should tell Annie that their Christmases usually just consisted of Mikasa baking her famous Banana Walnut Cake and his Grandpa giving them some of his homemade wine. Eren usually joins them just before midnight after having gone to a friend's party. Now when he thinks about it, it's a wonder that Eren actually comes back home sober.

"Don't worry about it," she says, retrieving her jeans from him. "We don't have to do any of that stuff." He looks at her, now wearing a shiny red halter top and… no pants.

He almost chokes on his food, standing up in a hurry and knocking into her head, he didn't know she was still getting dressed!

"Ow," she says, rubbing her head gingerly. "What's wrong with you?!"

"I'm so sorry," he exclaims, squeezing his eyes shut, "you didn't tell me…"

She looks down, realizing what he's freaking out so much for. She chuckles, she's gotten so used to wearing such short clothing for her cheer routines that it wasn't really such a big deal for her. She looks up at him, barely an inch away from her, looking so incredibly cute, the embarrassed blush spread over his cheeks and she can't help it; she reaches up and places a soft kiss on his lips.

His eyes fly open in surprise, but before he can get used to the mind numbing sensation of having her lips on his, they're gone and he's left catching his own labored breath.

She doesn't say anything after that, but he's pretty sure he can see a small smile playing out on her lips as she shimmies into her jeans.

..

The party seems to be exactly as she promised it would be and after surviving three hours in this covert of smoke, drugs and alcohol, Armin's patience was growing thin. He watches Annie maneuver through the crowd, smiling just the right amount at everyone who stops to say hello, as she fetches their 4th round of beer.

He's thankful he has Mikasa for company though, looking just plain bored while Eren is high-fiving and laughing or whatever with the other guys from his team. Mikasa is mostly happy to watch Eren in his natural habitat, so he's glad when Annie returns in less than two minutes.

"Hey," he says, smiling at her, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't be able to make it back."

She takes a swig of her beer. "Sorry Armin," she says, "If it weren't for my actual love of cheerleading, I wouldn't even bother with these people." He knew she was right. The only reason she had even joined the squad was because this school didn't offer gymnastics.

Annie is a bundle of surprises today, he notes, not only is she actually smiling so much, fake though it may be, she's even getting along with Mikasa. Not to mention the kiss, he thinks, mind fuzzing up from the very thought, and he wonders when they're actually going to talk about it.

"Annie," says a voice from behind, and she turns around to find Bertholdt walking towards her. His voice is markedly less squeaky today, no doubt emboldened by all the alcohol, Armin thinks, petulantly.

"You look amazing," he says, and when he sees the blush on Annie's face Armin realizes that _this _is how you play your cards right. "Do you want to dance?"

Annie looks at Armin, searching for a hint, an inkling, anything really for him to tell her not to go. But instead he just smiles, and for the first time that smile infuriates her. "Sure," she says, smiling sweetly at him and heading to the makeshift dance floor.

Armin just watches as she moves along with him, the red fabric of her halter dipping low on her back where Bertholdt's hand now rested.

"How are some people just so _smooth,_" he complains to Mikasa, resting his arms on the railings of the balcony.

"He's not smooth, you're just stupid," she states matter-of-factly. "I haven't seen anyone ignore _these _many signals in one night, _ever. _Not even in those stupid sitcoms Eren watches."

"What? What are these signals you speak of?" He sure hadn't noticed anything. "She looked like she was asking me if it was okay to dance"- Mikasa cut him off with a loud whack on his head.

"Armin, you moron, she was asking you to _stop _her."

..

"I should get to back to Armin," she tells Bertholdt, as the song is about to finish. She feels a little guilty about storming off like that, because she's pretty sure Armin genuinely didn't know what he had done wrong.

"One more dance?" he asks, standing a little closer than she would have liked; she can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Don't worry, he seems to be enjoying himself."

True enough, she turns to see Armin and Mikasa standing together in the balcony, evidently in deep discussion about something. When she sees him whack her head playfully, it's enough for Annie to see red.

"Yeah, why not?" she says, turning back to the dance floor, wondering why she even bothers.

..

Armin catches Annie alone some time later; the music finally starting to wind down.

"Hey stranger," he says lightly, "I didn't know you could dance like that."

"I'm a cheerleader," she retorts. "This is pretty much what we do." She was snapping at him and making statements that made no sense but she didn't care. "Where's Mikasa? You guys seemed to be having a swell little time together."

Armin was taken aback. He'd never been on the receiving end of Annie's biting remarks before. He pulled her into the balcony, where it was quieter. "Annie, what's wrong?"

She was this close to exploding, how could he be this blind? She had given him all the signs. She had even _kissed _him for God's sake. "I just wanted to spend Christmas Eve together," she says, her anger fading into resignation.

Mikasa was right; he is definitely the stupidest guy on the planet. "You need to grow some balls, Armin," she had said, and crude as it was, he was going to take that advice.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled her to him, holding her with her head tucked under his chin. "Well that makes the two of us," he murmurs. He looked down at her, her blue eyes wrought with frustration.

"You kissed me," he says, and he's shaking on the inside but he doesn't let it show. "I'm a few hours late, but I'm going to kiss you back," he whispers, not sure if it's a question or a statement. She doesn't say anything, just stares up at him, her gaze dumbfounded, like she can't believe her ears.

He can't blame her, he can barely believe it himself.

He leans down, hoping desperately that her silence implies consent, and places kisses her tentatively, his mouth soft and warm against hers. It's ridiculous how long he's waited to do this, but it doesn't matter now because she is kissing him back, her small lips eager and impatient under his. He chuckles softly; who knew Annie could be so demanding?

She tugs at his lower lip, deepening the kiss, her hands reaching up instinctively to tangle in his golden mess of hair. "Hey," he says, trying to break away and grinning when she lets out a little whine in complaint. "Dance with me."

She groans, dance is definitely the last thing on her mind. She'd rather do this, whatever _this _is, this wonderful mess of kisses and touches that she has just discovered Armin is so good at.

"Sure," she says, her voice low and teasing, eyes bright with an idea. "Let's dance," she murmurs, bringing her lips back up to his.

"Back at my place."

A/N : This is probably some of my worst work and it played out so much better in mind than it did on paper, I'm sorry. :(

If you have a moment, leave me a piece of constructive criticism and I will love you for it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Aruani week, Day 7&amp;8**

**Prompts : Ice (day 7) &amp; Sleep(day 8)**

**Rating : M (for smut/nsfw content)**

**Excuse my slightly weird interpretation of the prompts. :P **

Ever since she was a child, Annie has always been a light sleeper. The slightest of disturbances would have her up for hours.

Sadly, marriage and a kid have done nothing to change that fact.

So when she hears a noise go thump followed by a slight scraping tune, she is instantly awake. She glances at the clock on her nightstand. It's 3 a.m, pitch dark and Armin is sleeping soundly, his soft breathing tickling her ears.

Extricating herself from her husband's groggy hold, she makes her way down the stairs, quiet as ever, her blood infused with adrenaline.

This is supposed to be a safe neighbourhood, she thinks, moving faster as she hears some clinking noises. There's never been any reports of thefts or burglaries in the area.

She listens for a moment. The intruder seems to be careful, doing their level best to keep quiet but Annie has excelled in martial arts and the first lesson they teach you is how to be _aware. _

As she moves instinctively closer to the source of the noise, she realises it's coming from the kitchen and she's slightly confused. Why the kitchen? She can't remember keeping any of their valuables there.

Taking a deep breath, she flicks the light switch on. She's fast, a fact she has always prided herself on, and she knows she can use the intruder's alarm to her advantage.

So when she sees a familiar mop of blond hair, peeking from under the kitchen counter, she wants to smack herself. She should've guessed.

"I can see you, Ariana."

She is beyond relieved that her panicky assumptions hadn't been true but also slightly annoyed that her sleep, sparse as it is, is now gone with the wind.

The little girl hesitates for a moment, contemplating her course of action and finally decides to crawl out from under the counter, hitting her head on the dark marble slab. "Owww," she whines, rubbing her head gingerly.

Annie wants to be sympathetic and rub her head for her but her eyes narrow at the little box that she was hiding behind her back. It had dropped to the floor and rolled into her view when she had hit her head.

"Is that a tub of Ben and Jerry's that I see on the floor?"

The young blonde stops rubbing her head and spots her half empty tub of ice cream on the floor. She is brave enough to attempt a look at her mother's face and she gulps. Her face is sticky with hard, visible proof of her indulgence. Her secret is exposed, she is doomed and _nothing_ can save her now. Hurriedly, she reaches for the ice cream, clutching it to her chest as though her life depends on it.

"The very same tub of Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip ice cream that I specifically told you to stop eating earlier in the evening?" Annie's voice is sharp. She had already finished more than a third of it during the day.

She has the grace to look guilty. "But mommy, it was just a midnight snack!"

Annie couldn't believe it. She had been preparing for the worst, her mind having conjured up images of fearsome bandits dressed from head to toe in black, armed and dangerous, yet here she was dealing with her errant ten year old daughter and her incorrigible ice cream addiction.

"Nobody has ice cream for a midnight snack," she says, exasperated, "you'll get sick, Ariana!"

Her face crumples, eyes dropping, her quivering mouth sticking out to form her best impression of a puppy face. "Pleeease mommy?"

She had gotten really good at the art of manipulative gestures, Annie would give her that. Blessed with her father's soft, innocent features and guileless light blue eyes, it was quite common for Annie to simply give in to her pleas, as crazy as they may be.

But today was not one of those days.

She glares at her daughter, a brilliant blue weapon that has had many cowering in intimidation when she was younger. "You're going to bed this instant, young lady."

She looks back at her mom in defiance, stubbornly holding on to her treasure tightly.

It wasn't that she had lost her touch, just that evidently both father and daughter were completely immune to it.

"Ariana," Annie says, voice low with warning. But before could resort to another session of "pleeeeases" and "I've been such a good girl, I deserve this," strong arms swoop her up, with the tub of ice cream in tow, as she lets out a little squeal of surprise.

"Hey daddy," she says giggling when she sees that it's him, "do you want some?"

He's tempted but when he sees Annie's face, stern and unrelenting, he just plants a soft kiss on her round little nose and says, "I don't think so, sweetheart, Mommy knows what's good for us."

She pouts, genuinely dejected because she isn't used to her father denying her. "Off to bed we go," he says laughing at her antics and tickling her as he carries her to her room.

Seeing them disappear into the bedroom, she smiles to herself, it's amazing to see just how strikingly similar they were, from their ever playful temperament to their profound sweet tooth.

In all their years of dating, Armin had always been the one to finish off the box of valentine's day chocolates he would give her. And it's downright cheesy, but she thinks that maybe that has something to do with how he is such a sweet person.

But dealing with what seemed like _two _Armins sometimes, was a little taxing even for her.

She enters the room and looks at the bed, the covers still warm from where they had slept. She doesn't know why but all of a sudden she is struck with the inexplicable urge to do nothing but cuddle up to him till the sun comes up, and maybe even re explore the deep, enticing cavern of intimacy that they haven't had the time for in weeks.

Married life is hard and though Armin is a wonderfully attentive, affectionate husband, the end of the day almost always leaves him tired.

But she misses him, his warmth, his touch, his kisses. Determined, she shimmies out of her sleep shorts, making up her mind to surprise him when he gets back to the room.

As she reaches for the hem of her oversized sleep shirt, ready to pull it off, she hears the familiar voice, this time with an amused intonation.

"Can't say I don't enjoy the striptease, love."

She colours, turning around abruptly to make some smart retort, but she is immediately swept into his embrace, his hands encircling her waist and pulling her close. "It's amazing how beautiful you can look even in the middle of the night," he murmurs, combing his hands through her golden locks.

She smiles, shamelessly drinking in the compliments and she's certain she's going to get what she wants tonight.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tugs on his hair, pulling him down for a kiss, because she can express so much more that way. His lips are soft and light, like a feather almost and she snakes her tongue across his lower lip, wanting to feel more and tasting a slight tinge of chocolate that seems awfully familiar.

_Wait. Chocolate?!_

He tilts his head backward, avoiding her eager kiss, laughter in his eyes. He could literally _feel _the question on her lips.

"Oh shit, my ice cream is going to melt," he says, completely slaying the mood that had been drifting between them, and when he hurries back to the tub of ice cream he had kept on the bedside table, Annie's jaw almost drops open.

_He did not just turn me down for ice cream. _

"Is that…?" she asks, taking a moment to piece it together, because she _still _cannot believe it, "Armin, you were supposed to keep that back in the fridge!"

"You didn't tell me to," he says calmly, shoving a spoonful into his mouth, a crooked grin splaying on his face.

She makes her way to him and tries to grab it from him, but he is a good couple of heads taller than him, so he evades her with ease.

Before she can realize it, she's on her back, wedged under him. He looks at her, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, but he still has the spoon in his mouth, savouring the sweet essence of chocolate in his mouth.

"Oh just put it down," she says bluntly, although she knows it's futile, she isn't really in the position to be authoritative right now. He's playing with her, she realizes, because Armin can read her like a book, and he knows perfectly well what she wants.

"But I'm enjoying my ice cream, Annie," he mock pouts, swirling his tongue on the chocolate covered spoon and sucking off the remains. She gulps, pupils blown out because she's sick of watching him lick the ice cream, she wants his mouth on _her, _her lips and all the other wanton places craving for his attention.

"Kiss me," she implores, she really isn't in a position to claim the kiss herself, pinned beneath him.

"Take off your shirt," he orders quietly, trying not to grin, and she complies, recognizing that look in his eyes, the one which means he's got an idea, not knowing whether to feel frustrated or turned on because she likes pushy Armin, but he _still _hasn't kissed her.

This is his idea, he's supposed to be in control, but he lets out a sharp, audible breath when she throws off her tshirt in a hurry, because Annie naked, bathed in the dim yellow light of the bedside lamp, is indeed a _sight _to see.

He scoops up another spoonful of ice cream and brings it to her mouth, offering it to her silently. He pulls away when she tilts up to lick it, and it melts, tiny drops slipping in between her lips. This isn't what she wants but she relishes the milky texture on her tongue, the rich taste melting into her mouth.

He holds the spoon lower, and it dribbles onto her neck, as he watches the tiny brown rivulets run between her collarbones to the valley of her breasts.

She shivers and she isn't sure if it's from the cold of the ice cream or just how erotic this gesture really is.

"Armin," she breathes shakily, and he realizes that it's not fair for him to have all the fun, so he bends down and kisses her, wet and messy and it's enough for her to know that he isn't as unaffected as he seems.

"Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Ice Cream," he murmurs softly, as he presses kisses her to jaw, following the trail of an escaped ice cream drop. "My favorite."

His lips are soft, caressing the curve of her neck and she moans lightly when he nips at her collarbone, arresting the little globule that rested at the hollow between. Distracting her with his butterfly kisses downward, he presses the spoon on to her nipple and she _hisses, _shaking, because the metal is bitingly cold against the sensitive tips of her skin. "_Oh-!" _she moans, arching against him, his mouth now warm and wet over the cold skin and she can feel everything south of her tighten in the most delicious way.

He doesn't stop there, pursuing the chocolate stream that is running down her china skin, down to her abdomen, his lips ghosting over navel. He can smell her, her skin mixed with rich chocolate and the distinct smell of her arousal and he can feel himself straining painfully against the fabric of his pants.

"Armin," she says, another unintelligible raspy utterance of his name, but he understands.

"Open your legs, Annie," he whispers, and she does, even _his _patience is wearing thin, because there is only so long he can withstand the sight of his beautiful wife, naked and aroused without being driven insane.

She takes a deep breath, thankful that he isn't going to make her wait but all she can do is groan as he shifts downward, teeth grazing the skin of her inner thighs. She feels the spoon now on her abdomen, the melted ice now flowing south, and Armin is quick to reach between her legs, long fingers making short work of her underwear. Somewhere at the back of her mind she knows she's supposed to be embarrassed but her entire body shudders when the cold droplets dip into the warmth of her core and she is now ready to _beg._

His head shifts in between her legs, and he is relentless in his pursuit of the chocolate droplets that are driving her crazy, dipping his tongue into her folds, and she whimpers, a low needy noise that makes him feel just a _little _bit sorry for her, so he pushes two fingers inside. She responds eagerly, hips jerking to meet him and Armin lets out a husky laugh. "_So impatient_."

"Please," she says, a ruined plea that he just cannot ignore anymore because he is hard and throbbing, this painfully sweet taunting has gone on long enough.

"Ready?" he mumbles hoarsely, not knowing why he still asks even after all these years because she has given enough indication that she is, in fact, wet and aching for him and definitely more than just _ready. _

He buries himself within her in one swift motion, familiar hands sweeping over the curves of the body he knows better than his own, and she cries out, a sharp, desperate sound, because he is hot, hard and so impossibly amazing inside her that she is _this _close to unraveling. He kisses her hard, not caring that he probably tastes of her, more teeth than lips in a reminder that as much as he loves to _hear _her fall apart he doesn't want to wake Ariana.

But that was hard to keep in mind when with each thrust he just felt more and more like a teenager, the feeling of just being inside her so impossibly _good_, his self-restraint threatening to vanish in mere seconds.

"Annie," he breathes out, hitting hard against _that _spot, over and over again, till she comes hard, convulsing helplessly around him, with incoherent whimpers of his name.

Armin follows soon after, emptying into her and muffling his groans into her mouth. He eases out of her and kisses her softly, as she buries her face, mumbling raggedly into his sweat-slicked shoulder.

"That was fun."

..

~The next day morning~

"Ariana," she calls, as the tiny blonde runs out the door. "You forgot your lunch box!" Annie runs behind her to the bus stop, thankfully getting there before the bus did.

"Thanks, mommy!" the little girl says reaching up for a hug. Annie smiles at her, and gives her the usual discourse about behaving herself in class and listening to the teacher when she notices Ariana is looking at her a little curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Mommy?" she asks, genuinely confused, "Why do you smell like chocolate ice cream?"

.


End file.
